


only fools rush in

by Kareninsghost, simplydrasticvoldy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, Smitten Katsuki Yuuri, Smitten Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kareninsghost/pseuds/Kareninsghost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplydrasticvoldy/pseuds/simplydrasticvoldy
Summary: Princes Victor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky were supposed to go on an adventure for a week, disguised as commoners, off some monster heads, etc etc. Or at least that was the plan.Instead they end up spending it in a cute little inn in the far end of the country. Oh, and it has hot springs. And real cute staff. Real cute.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hammock?” 

 

“Check.” 

 

“Hunting knife?” 

 

“Check.” 

 

“Potya plushie?” 

 

“ _What?_ ” 

 

Yuri Plisetsky narrows his eyes at his brother, who looks at him with genuine confusion. He is embarrassed now, because he thought he’d be able to smuggle that tiger plushie in the adventure bag without acknowledgement, but now he needs to explain. “I can’t sleep without it.” 

 

His brother just received enough teasing material for the entire journey. However, he just sighs, “Yuri, you’ve got to be picky. You realise we’ll have to carry these bags the whole time. Stuffing a toy is –” 

 

“You can carry your dumbass books but I can’t carry one weightless plushie? I’m not doing this with you. Fuck you, Victor. I hate you. Good bye.” 

 

It's only a pre-empted attack on Victor’s familial sensibilities, so Yuri waits before  _actually_ making a move to leave the hall room. Victor sighs again – longer, more audible and dramatic – then shuffles his books, pulling out a fat one and putting it aside. Then he jostles the bag for room, “That should do.” 

 

“Who cares anyway?” Yuri sounds bored, eyeing the rejected book. “It’s not like you’re going to have the time to read. We're going on an adventure.” He scrambles amidst the mess to pick the map. It's not like he stares at it four hours a day,  _totally not like that._  “See here,” he points at the outskirts of their kingdom, “the volcanic region right by the wall of Vasilyevich. An actual fire mage lives there. Georgi told me.” 

 

Victor shrugs. “There are no mages. Magic isn’t real, Yura.” 

 

Says the guy who skips sword practice to write cheesy romance fiction. Yuri rolls his eyes. He'll soon prove Victor wrong. “I can’t believe I'll have to tolerate you and you alone for an entire week.” 

 

There's more background to this supposed ‘adventure’ trip than just for the sake of unsolicited thrill. The trip has been in the making for months –  _years_ even – because the Nikiforov princes are not allowed to travel beyond the wall of Vasilyevich without an actual troupe of bodyguards. After a while, the responsibilities feel regressive, the protection feels suffocating and anything out of bounds feels like a fascinating forbidden fruit he needs to get a taste of. Last week Victor passed his twelfth level swordsmanship test without even trying (Yuri himself is at level five, and damn, it’s pretty hard), their tutor is on a leave, and an invitation to spend the next week at a faraway uncle they haven’t seen in the last ten years has propped up. So Georgi would dye his hair silver (and Mila blonde), and they’ll be Prince Victor and Prince Yuri for a week, and Yuri and Victor would switch into commoner clothes and take to the road.  

 

Normally, neither Yuri nor Victor would agree on spending time together like this. They both have their own agendas. Yuri wants to prove himself – within the castle grounds no one seems to see him as a threat, so maybe a monster slaying or two would change things. As for Victor, well, his motives are  _weird._  

 

Victor secretly publishes stories under a pen name. They usually have a title that has nothing to do with the actual story, same formula in different dressings (not really, or probably – to be honest, Yuri has no idea, he has never picked up any of Victor’s godforsaken books, he’s only quoting from that one bad review he spite-read to his brother). According to Georgi, they sell like hot cakes in the kingdom. And now, Victor hasn’t been able to produce a new story for months. So he whines day and night. He wants to experience something _new_.  

 

If you don’t have any inspiration left, you’re as good as dead. That, or whatever. 

 

The morning arrives early. “Don’t make negotiations when your uncle is drunk. And have manners befitting of a prince,” Yakov gives them a last-minute lecture, his forehead wrinkling so vigorously it’s almost caving in, “which means,” he glares at Victor, “no oversharing,” and then at Yuri, “and no swearing. Maintain personal boundaries and don’t dance naked – or fight naked – or – ugh, just be normal for a week. Off you go.” 

 

Yuri barely manages to keep a straight face throughout the ordeal, and decidedly avoids looking at Victor (they don’t need another laughing-in-the-middle-of-a-dead-serious-courtroom scandal) until they are escorted to their carriages at the gate. They sneak into the greenhouse and meet Georgi (with a hood on his head, silver sideburns peeking) and Mila, who sheepishly whips her hat at the sight of them, revealing a –  

 

“A wig?!” Yuri barks at her, “I’ll end you,  _baba_.” It’s very odd seeing Mila without her flaming red hair, especially right now, with what looks like a bird’s nest on her head, in a distractingly yellow colour. That's not blond, and definitely not Yuri’s blond. 

 

“I’m the tiny prince now,” she laughs, “Give me some respect!” 

 

Yuri stares daggers and grumbles under his breath. Knowing they’re risking their heads for this, he can’t say too much. Victor's already taken off his jewels and embellishments and put on a dull grey robe. Yuri follows suit, and soon enough, with two giant bags, they settle into the back of one of the royal carriages.  

 

Georgi (now in Victor’s travelling clothes and tacky silver hair) drops them off at the wall of Vasilyevich.  

 

“Stay alert. Don't die. And meet the mage.” 

 

With two thumbs up and a dramatic hair flip, they set off on their adventure. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You know what, you were right. We should’ve been picky.” 

 

Beyond the wall, the kingdom is different. Sparse and unstructured, warm balmy air whisked in a jingle of country bells on the shop doors. More people on foot than on carriages. Less horses, more cattle. Less buildings, more wooden sheds, tiny houses. Whenever Victor travelled outside the wall before, the carriages never derailed into these smaller stony pathways. Naturally, the mystery grew and rumours flourished amongst the children. Wolves became werewolves, foreigners became ghouls, bears became trolls. Beyond the wall became the  _other world_. Then Victor grew up and put all of this behind.  

 

Which means all this must be terribly unexciting for Yuri, who’s getting grumpier by the minute. Evening's about to dawn in and the biggest problem yet has been their own pair of bags. Victor's shoulders are numb. It's almost as if the bag is growing heavier with every step.  

 

On top of it they’ve managed to forget vital things. Like water. All they have is a lot of books, guineas, a bat for some reason, some tools, cookies, and a stuffed toy tiger. What a disaster. 

 

“No charge for water,” the shopkeeper tells Victor as he pulls out a pouch of gold coins from his inside pocket. Embarrassed and grinning, Victor stuffs it back. “But I can’t take favours without paying you. It's the law of the land. What's your name? I _insist_ you take the money.” 

 

The woman visibly blanches. Victor deflates. He forgot he isn’t royalty right now, and no one is obliged to tell him their name. This isn’t going too well, “Sorry, that’s impolite. We’ll – we’ll just go. Thank you for your help.” 

 

“No, wait – I,” the woman’s dark eyes rounded, “It’s Sara. I’m one of the owners. Usually folks are not so upfront about payment so I was just a little surprised. I can’t take money for water, but you can look around the shop, alright? Buy anything that catches your fancy.” 

 

Victor glances at Yuri. His brother simply shrugs. Outside is windy and cold now that the sun has set, and the shop has a fireside. It's an animal shelter. They might actually find something, like a good royal-breed horse that can relieve them of the leg work. Or maybe –  

 

He gasps. “What is... that  _majestic_ creature?” 

 

Sara points from over his shoulder. “That one?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“That’s a poodle. We found her abandoned two weeks ago. She's partially deaf, but otherwise active and very healthy.” 

 

Victor swallows thickly. His heart skips a beat. “Can I – can I touch her?” 

 

Sara grins. “Sure, go ahead.” 

 

He proceeds carefully, reaching out his hand. The poodle’s kind eyes look back in a sort of happiness (or at least he  _hopes_  it’s happiness); her hair is soft and curly, shimmery golden brown – Victor senses the life pulsing under the skin... everything about it, so  _good._  He's mesmerised until she breaks his trance with a  _woof!_  wiping his entire face with one slobbery lick. This is love, this is friendship. 

 

Victor discovers an old nametag on her collar. “Makka... Makkachin?” She yips. His eyes widen in surprise. He isn’t sure how much she can hear but it’s almost as if she can read his lips. What a genius, good girl. Best girl. 

 

“We’ll take her,” he announces passionately. He has five hundred gold coins on him, and he’ll trade them all –  

 

Sara smiles nervously. “Alright. Our store policy is to never charge money for adopting abandoned animals.” 

 

“But I insist,” Victor protests, more zealously this time, his hand snaking into his pocket for his pouch again. He drops a mound of coins on the counter. “Just as a token of gratitude. For bringing her to me. Please, I insist!” 

 

Sara is vaguely terrified at the pile of glittering gold and Yuri is faintly grumbling again because Victor is doing a shit job at hiding his identity, and any moment a troupe of royal guards would break in and the princes would be sent back and grounded for the next two months. Thankfully, none of this happens – instead, they end up having supper with the nice lady. The food is standard and comforting, if not glamorous – which means that people beyond the wall aren’t dwindling in grave poverty like Victor often assumed in his stories. Why do they like to read them then? 

 

“You should be careful with all that money,” Sara warns them, “it’s festive season. It's very easy to dupe or rob you.” 

 

If that was an insult, it ricochets right off Victor. He smiles at her, “Thank you for everything.” Then nudges Yuri hard in his shoulder.  

 

“Yes, yes.” His brother receives the message, “Thanks.” 

 

“Just one more favour,” says Victor, “Could you suggest a place where we can lodge in for the nightfall? We'll be on the move tomorrow morning.” 

 

“A place nearby?” 

 

* * *

 

“ _Yuutopia_ _A..._ _katsuki_ _Hot Springs and Lodge... special offer extra-large_ _katsudon_... you sure this is the place she talked about?” 

 

“Well, you can’t be wrong about a name that long.” 

 

It looks like one of those cosy little inns in Victor’s stories where some dude ends up after the big damn climax, contemplating about his life (alright, Yuri concedes, he lied about not reading any of Victor’s stories, he has read one – okay, two – _alright fine_  six of them, but it’s a secret he’ll take to the grave). Sara the shelter owner was right, the place was bustling – there was a line of people before what looked like the reception counter. Yuri could sniff the faint aroma of the food inside; his stomach immediately grumbles in response. But it seems their chances of getting in aren’t that high this evening. 

 

Victor has run ahead, shamelessly cutting through the line. He is talking to a lady holding a tray of empty bowls. Maybe he’s  _insisting_ with his big pouch of money again. Yuri walks up to them with loud thumping steps; he has to ensure Victor doesn’t make them go broke overnight. 

 

“– I really don’t think I am the best person to answer this –” 

 

“Please, I insist,” oh yes, Victor is at it again. Yuri's palm meets his own face with a  _thwip_. “We only need to stay for the night, and we’ll pay double,  _no_ triple the charge! I'll carry this tray for you!” 

 

The lady seems three parts charmed and one part frightened. Victor’s usually a good charmer but today is a slight off-day for him; the people here are a little different from those of the castle and Victor’s just... coming on too strongly. Perhaps his nagging has worked this time.  

 

However, before the lady can utter another word, someone comes up from behind – a dude with blue-rimmed glasses, wearing a badge that says “ _STAFF_ ” – and stands in front of her, his arm flailing almost protectively. His jaw is set and he looks annoyed, even as his eyes dart at the poodle and he considers for a moment, then at Victor and he considers for another, longer moment. But then his jaw sets back and he says, “Please leave.” 

 

Such rude staff. Do they want to stay here? Yuri looks up at Victor – who is holding the lady’s tray like an idiot, staring at the glasses guy like a deer caught in the carriage-lights. What’s up with  _that_?  

 

“But we have the money!” Yuri says, maybe a little too loud and tactlessly, since someone  _had_ to follow through, because Victor is –  _ugh_ , that dipshit is still staring. 

 

“We don’t need the money.” His voice is sort-of warm, and his tone isn’t impolite, but cold,  _so_  cold. “Now, please leave.” 

 

* * *

 

Mila was right; they are not cut out for this. Yuri trudges along the stone path, Victor nowhere in sight. They left that inn for the sake of their dignity, and now they have no place to move in. Victor asked him to stand guard of their belongings while he searches for a place. On top of it, a storm is brewing – the wind is threateningly cold, and droplets are soaking up their bags, making them heavier. Yuri just... hates everything.  

 

“Yura!” Victor comes running from behind, strands of his silver hair standing up at odd angles. He seems oddly optimistic about such a shitty day. “Found a place for the night. Let’s go.” 

 

A half-grin, half-sigh escapes him against his will. So Victor _can_  do a job. Good to know. Victor picks up his bag and leads the way; Yuri looks expectantly at the wooden bungalow in the distance, the lights shimmering against the glossy wet window panes, before he realises it's  _not_ where they are heading. Victor takes up a muddy path, and after a few good splotchy steps they end up under a –  

 

"This is a cow shed." Yuri says. You _had one job, Victor_. 

 

"It's just a few hours. We'll leave in the morning, before the sun rises." Victor pulls up his bag near a pole, manages to lock its straps around it. "Besides it's clean and there are no cows right now. The owner told me we can light a fire in the corner. There's no room available anywhere. We gotta make do." 

 

"Cow or not, it's a  _fucking_  cow shed. It stinks of cow dung." And it's raining. And there's a storm. A good chance the roof will be blown apart by the morning. 

 

Victor turns his back at him, and slumps to the ground. Makkachin the mutt lays beside him, quietly yipping. "Good night, Yuratchka." 

 

Is he fucking serious? 

 

Yuri waits for five minutes, fidgeting, waiting for Victor to burst out laughing and telling him this is a prank. When that doesn't happen, he glances at the bundle of firewood in the corner wondering if it's a good idea to make fire and then fall asleep in a place full of dry straw. Victor isn't sleeping either, Yuri knows; maybe he's just disappointed in himself. Who knows? Yuri never understood the guy. 

 

He outstretches an arm to reach for a log of wood when he catches a flare of a lantern from the corner of his eye. He freezes. Someone's coming to them –  

 

"Victor!" He whispers fiercely, poking his brother hard. "Victor!" 

 

"What happened..." 

 

"– Victor, someone's here, someone's here to rob us –" That Sara the shelter owner must have snitched – or maybe someone saw them at the inn with their money –  

 

Victor jumps into a sitting position. "What?  _Where_?" 

 

Yuri points to his right. It's raining hard now, but the glow of the lantern is unmistakable. Someone's coming –  

 

"Take out your sword!" Yuri screams. 

 

"I don't have the sword," Victor replies as he shuffles through the bag, "It has the royal seal, I can't carry it while in disguise!"   
 

"Oh my  _god_ Victorwe're gonna die –"   
 

"I have the hunting knife," Victor scrounges deeper into the sack, "Just wait a minute –"   
 

" _Fast_ , you moron! Victor, he's almost here –"   
 

"Wait," Victor moves on to Yuri's bag, searching for the goddamn knife, "I can't find it. We wait and see if he attacks. Just splash mud on him and run, alright? I'll handle the rest – " 

 

"But where's the fucking knife –"   
 

"I don't know, I  _can't_ find it – did you use it in the morning to butter your toast?!"   
 

"Why will I use a hunting knife to butter my toast –" 

 

"– You do a lot of questionable things, Yura –" 

 

"Victor, he's here, Victor,  _splashing_  time –”   
 

"No, wait, Yura –" 

 

" _Aaaaaaaaaaaa_  –" 

 

Yuri unleashes a war cry and ploughs out handfuls of mud, dung whatever – but before he could aim and throw the lantern flips into the air and  Makkachin jumps onto the attacker. Next they hear is a sound of a happy yipping and a bell-like giggle in the rain and they wonder what kind of attacks the poodle is capable of. 

 

When the lantern’s close to his face again, turns out their attacker was the rude glasses guy from the inn, drenched in rain and mud. “Uh,” he fiddles with the lantern, adjusting the flame, slight blush etched against his roundish cheeks, “Nishigori told me you asked him to stay here for the night.” 

 

“What’s it to do with you?” Yuri snaps. He waits for Victor to back him up, but –  _oh my god_ he’s staring at the glasses guy again.  

 

“Nothing, um...” the guy looks up at Victor and stumbles into a pause, then breaks away, “Actually, I came here to say I’m sorry. I'm  _really_ sorry for the way I behaved! I just – um, I completely misread the situation. I thought you were – anyway, it’s inexcusable, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry!” 

 

“It’s alright,” Victor speaks, finally, a genuine smile on his face. Yuri raises a brow.  _Really_ , they’re letting him get away with this? How come Victor didn’t roast him on a spit?  _What_? 

 

“Thanks,” the guy grins at Victor, letting out a sigh of relief. “Let’s go, then,” he turns to Yuri, “I can carry the bag for you.” 

 

“Go where?” asks Yuri suspiciously. 

 

“You don’t  _actually_ plan to stay here for the night, do you? The wind doesn’t look too good either.” He picks up the bag and the lantern, and sets off, Makkachin wagging her tail after him (that dog has questionable loyalties, thinks Yuri, or maybe this guy is some kind of animal whisperer). “What’s your name?” 

 

“It’s Yuri –” Victor slaps him on the back, reminding they’re in disguise, “Yuri O. Scorpion Tiger.”  _Yes, great save._  Victor gives off a bout of fake laughter, then thumps his back again –  _ow, ow_  – “He’s kidding. His name’s Yurio. I'm Vitya. We're brothers, and we’ve travelled here for the first time. So naturally we’re a little... lost and confused.” 

 

“That’s okay, I’ll help you,” he gives Victor a big, wide, dorky smile, “Now hurry up, let’s get to the inn before the rain gets worse. Come on! Oh, and my name is Yuuri.” 

 

A namesake, huh? Yuri cannot believe this is the most interesting of all things that happened today. Mila is  _so_  going to hold him upside-down and laugh in his face. Yuri looks at Victor – there’s something off about his expression, his blue eyes are like cold slits – it's almost as if he’s studying this Yuuri guy’s every action. Does he not trust him? Yuri needs a hint, a word, a blink,  _anything_ – so they let this Yuuri go ahead and out of earshot with Makkachin, and hope that the sound of the rain would mask their conversation.  

 

“So...” Yuri begins, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?” What are they going to do anyway? That Yuuri has his bag and the dog right now; the guy can very well blackmail Victor into giving up all the money if it comes to that –  

 

Instead, Victor just slumps on him, needlessly, dramatically, with the bag, et al. His stoic expression breaks, and his eyes round and dilate into –  _oh, no_  – Yuri flinches in horror, he’s seen this expression before, and he should have seen it coming – what did Yuri ever do to deserve this punishment – even as Victor whines, “That is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

 

Great.  

 

Now Victor’s in love.  

 

What a fucking disaster. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so hah, look it's me, just zooming in and out of depression. I found this story half-written in my docs, so I thought, why not. Plus this also makes me want to finish my other stories, and I'll get to them very very soon.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Kareninsghost created this beautiful art for the fic [ here ](https://www.instagram.com/painter.leey/p/Bwh5XD_AHth/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=reyqo39ause5) , please check it out! I will add the art into the fic once I learn how to! :3


	2. Chapter 2

The twinkling lights of the inn shimmer under the rain as the three of them (and Makkachin) hastily splotch their way to the stairs of the reception. There’s still a crowd around the counter; Victor spots the woman again – she smiles so he smiles back – still unsure what caused the squabble in the first place. Yuri sits on the wooden floor, water speckling from his wet clothes, side-eyeing the crowd, “Do you even  _have_ empty rooms?” Then he touches the wooden furnishing, “I guess even sleeping in the hallway is better than Victor’s dumbass shed.” 

 

If Victor wasn’t mistaken, he just saw Yuuri suppress a grin. “We don’t have any more guest rooms. But I guess there are arrangements for an emergency.” Victor’s brow furrows;  _okay,_  that was really suspicious. Either he is a really sassy dude or he knows who they are. Or Victor’s just really wet and cold and paranoid.  

 

“Good to know. Thank you, we’ll be forever grateful,” Victor replies, buttoning his wet shirt apart from his body before anyone can stop him.   

 

“Uh,” stammers Yuuri, determinedly staring away from Victor’s bare torso, bright red specks on his cute  _cute_  cheeks, “I -um, I’ll get you both some dry robes. Um, ask Mari – or, uh – anyone with a staff badge. They'll direct you to the room you’re supposed to be lodging in.” Then he flees sideways into the kitchen.     
 

Yuri snaps at Victor as soon as Yuuri leaves. “What do you think are you doing?” 

  

Victor blinks confusedly. “What do you mean?”  

 

“Really? You making me spell it out for you? Taking off your fucking shirt? I swear Victor if you ruin this trip for a booty call, I’ll end you right then and there.”    
 

“You misunderstand me, Yura,” he whines, “I was wet.”  

 

“Oh, that you are. Definitely are.”    
 

“You’re too young for such talk.”  

 

“Whatever, shithead. Keep it in your pants until I go to sleep. And we leave. _T_ _omorrow_.”  

 

It gets Victor thinking. To be honest, sparing the ultra-dramatic confession about how beautiful he finds Yuuri, he hasn’t given it a lot of thought, but given a chance he’ll want to spend some time with Yuuri (and hope he doesn’t turn out one of Yakov’s spies, or worse still, an enemy’s). There's just something about him that’s very alluring – about how his brown eyes are fierce but also... soft? He’s such a nervous wreck, and has a kind, cute smile, but an hour ago he just threw them out because he thought something was wrong? Then he went searching for them in the storm knowing they could’ve been anywhere? He seems like a man of contradictions, and it’s all very –   

 

“Hot,” Victor says out of nowhere. Yuri stares at him, “What?”    
 

“I said it’s hot in here,” he backs up, “We should ask for our room.”   

 

Before they can so much as move a foot, another woman – rather stoic-looking, her hair up in a bun with frayed blonde ends and multiple piercings on the earlobe, and a  _STAFF_  badge on the pocket of her red robes – pauses before them. “Foreigners?” she calls out pointedly, sounding bored, “Please follow me.” 

 

She takes them to a room. It's a congested yet tidy room; there’s a stack of books on one side, an instrument beside it, some chew toys for pets (funny that Victor didn’t see any, apart from his own), a mixture of other curious items, all shuffled yet sorted in some manner. “This is Yuuri’s room,” she tells them, “I’m Mari. The rush today is really overwhelming, so this was the only room we could manage. With the storm outside, the verandas are pretty useless. You both must be hungry. I'll get you food.” 

 

“Anyone else getting a real weird vibe?” Yuri asks no one when she leaves, “They’re all _way_  too kind to be running a business.” 

 

Victor scans his surroundings, then places his large bag in the corner. His books must be soaking wet and some of the text must have smudged, he needs to spread them out –  

 

“Oi, Victor,” Yuri calls him, pointing at the stack of Yuuri's books, “Look.” 

 

Victor stares, studying it carefully. Most of them – no, all of them – are Victor’s novels. His heart skips a beat. He stashes his own wet books into his bag immediately. 

 

“How convenient,” Yuri rolls his eyes, putting his wet shirt aside and falling onto the mattress on the floor, “Looks like you’ve got a crush on your groupie.” 

 

Victor thumps him lightly on the head, leering almost threateningly. “And looks like you’ve got some secret-keeping to do.” 

 

* * *

 

In the deep night it still rains, but the rain softens into a constant drizzle. Victor turns to find Yuri snoring spread-eagled on one side, and the other far-end empty. As instructed, his little brother kept his mouth shut about Victor’s little secret; they changed into the inn’s robes and gobbled the delicious _katsudon_ Yuuri brought upstairs. They talked about basic things like the weather and more of their (fake) background – Yuuri remained strangely polite and listened through their spontaneous bullshit and Victor wondered if it was a good idea to build a friendship (relationship?) on such flimsy grounds. 

 

So when he sees Yuuri’s place empty, a pang of weird dread shoots through his heart –  _why do I care so much I'm leaving tomorrow I shouldn’t care about this at all_ – that Yuuri saw through their lies, or just didn’t find his new companions worth his time.  

 

He saunters through the hallway and reaches the front balcony. He finds Yuuri sitting against the railing in the light drizzle with a bottle of sake, a big goofy smile on his face. He looks tipsy but not absolutely inebriated, watching the bland horizon of the trees and the block-shaped houses and the gloomy black sky. Victor opens his mouth to say something (witty?) but his tongue gets twisted inside and all he can offer is a nervous smile. Why is he so nervous?  

 

“I know it looks like I'm a drunkard but I'm really not,” says Yuuri with a giggle, “My sister was sitting there a while ago. She just went to bed.” 

 

Victor sits beside him. “Here,” Yuuri offers him the bottle. The sake tastes nothing like the royal wine, but has a certain dry, fruity quality about it, and Victor likes it.  

 

“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow,” Yuuri begins, staring into the dark. 

 

“Yes, can’t stay at one place for too long,” Victor replies with an awkward grin, waiting for a response but doesn’t receive any. He takes another chug from the bottle, and decides to go for it. “I was hoping to get to know you better.”  _I wanted you to know me more honestly._  

 

The alcohol seems to have stripped a layer off Yuuri’s shyness. He turns, rather suddenly, and looks, rather longingly, then turns away and buries his head between his knees. “Me too,” he whispers. 

 

It gives Victor the confidence to tease one of the few conversations he wanted, and he starts with the least dangerous one, “I saw your collection of books. I...” 

 

It throws Yuuri into a fit of drunken laughter. “I know what you must be thinking. Books – books are expensive, but I swear I didn’t steal them!” And laughs some more, “most of them are gifts. From very distant friends. And the rest are... it’s a _looong_  story.” 

 

“I’m all ears.” 

 

He grins. “Maybe some other day.” Which brings Victor back to his original point, “No, actually I noticed a lot of books from V.” V for Victor; it never struck Victor until tonight how stupidly obvious his pseudonym is. 

 

“Oh. Yes. I love him. I think he’s a genius.” 

 

The alcohol spurs an ugly laugh out of Victor, a laugh so unsuitable for a prince that it would set Yakov on fire. He decides to continue teasing Yuuri, “I think he’s sometimes repetitive, flighty, and... not very intellectual.” That is what his naysayers tell him. 

 

“ _Flighty_?” Yuuri half-shouts in disbelief, “You mean whimsical. Then yes, his stories are whimsical and... and that’s the best part about them. You never know where he’s taking you.” 

 

Victor reaches out to brush his thumb against his chin, holding it tenderly, examining him like a doctor. Yuuri freezes in his position, his brown eyes wide like a deer in carriage-lights. “You’re in _love_ with him,” Victor teases him again, half-giggling. Is he drunk?  _Ah_ , there’s the bottle. One more chug. 

 

“Love? I d-don’t think so. He's probably an old man.” 

 

Ugly laugh. That’s what Yura calls him. “You think he’s an old man? And why is that?” 

 

Yuuri falls against him drunkenly, head on his shoulder. And Victor’s gallivanting heart almost stops. He could feel life pulsate at his shoulder; he could almost sense the soft strands of Yuuri’s hair against his robes. Damn,  _damn_ _you_ alcohol. He could cut the tension with a knife. Did he say that aloud? No, he didn’t. Good god. 

 

“Because it seems he’s terribly lonely.” 

 

“Ah.” 

 

It makes Victor cry for some reason. He doesn’t realise it until his tears are out dribbling down his chin. Yuuri turns to look at him, concerned. “Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry.” But Victor shakes his head with a sigh; it must be the alcohol. Alcohol does odd things to people. When he makes no effort to stop his tears, Yuuri reaches out to wipe them, with repeated apologies of “I’m sorry,” “I didn’t mean to,” and then, “You... you really have beautiful eyes, Vitya. Like the ocean,” and Victor can no more pin point the exact moment they smash their lips together and start to kiss.   

 

This is surprisingly new for Victor; he’s been trained to court men and women and he’s been trained at many odd things (“The king touches the people. The people don’t touch the king.”) and yet he’s never learned intimacy. So when Yuuri sucks at his lip and tenderly brushes his silver hair aside, he tries to do his best – he’s kissed before, only never with someone who understands him _this_ well – so he, too, tries to tell him how his body is burning with want and how badly he had wanted to do this ever since they met, and then it strikes him –  

 

“Yuuri,” he whispers in between the kisses, “How drunk are you?” 

 

“I’m in my senses,” he tells him, firmly, seriously, no half-laugh or giggle. “You? I'm sorry if I misunderstood –” 

 

“No,” Victor eases him into it, combing through his dark hair with his fingers, “I’m in my senses too.” 

 

But Yuuri breaks apart, and Victor fears all he did was kill the moment. Then he falls back, nudging his forehead against Victor’s, no more kissing, and entwines their fingers together. His hands are so much rougher than his face, and as Victor begins to find beauty in these small things he wonders if he has already fallen in _love_ with Yuuri. 

 

“I really like you, Vitya. It's odd, I’m never like this. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” 

 

“I wish the same,” he sighs, his heart sinking into a pit, and gives Yuuri a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek, “Good night, Yuuri.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight change in the format. Decided to go for short chapters, so now a little unsure how many chapters this is gonna be. Although often it just really depends on the plot sometimes.  
> Thanks for reading! And thank you for the support! Big thanks to kareninsghost for drawing art for the fic! More art will be coming soon!


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